Yes, I realize you are probably a full two income tax brackets ahead of me. But even your fake tan, fake boobs, and fake nails do NOT give you the right to literally shove me out of the way when looking at cabinet knobs in the hardware section. I know, I know...I had the audacity to arrive there first. But you see, I wasn't finished looking yet. Maybe if you'd have stopped and taken a second to say, "Could you please excuse me...but...", I might have taken pity on you. I might have realized with your Prada purse shoved right there in my face, that the world really did stop turning for you when you asked it to. I might have understood that because of the 5-carat rock on your left hand that it was my place in society to step back and give you the time and space you obviously needed. But you didn't ask. You just stepped on in leaving me nowhere to go but back.

I have had a shit day. I have been yelled at. My husband has been yelled at. We are about theeeees close to opening a full can o' whoop-ass on anyone that dares get in our way. You lady, got in the way.

So you go ahead and stand there all shocked and incredulous that I dare say "PARDON ME!" after your brief looky-loo turned into a full five minutes of idle time letting you go ahead and do your thang -- because not only did your little ass take up the bottom two rows of knobs -- your big fucking ego took up the five rows above it. And continue to play dumb that no one has never, ever had the nerve to think the things I thought, much less tell them to you in your face.

But when I said, "Pardon me! But proper etiquette in a store dictates saying 'please excuse me...' before butting in, shoving someone aside, and taking over the whole knob section when the other person was there first." Well I did not need to hear, "But I never touched you...," in return. That's correct. In fact, you did NOT touch me. That's because I had to dive-bomb out of the way because my own determination be damned, you were going to OWN that knob section before the day was through.

Surprisingly enough, even though you were probably convinced otherwise -- you didn't have to wither up and die while being forced to wait your turn either. In fact, I saw you at the checkout just moments after we were being bagged up. You did survive. See? It's not so hard. I'm glad I could do my civic duty in setting you straight for all the other low-lifes that have already been cut down by your titanium card's harsh glare. Even my cashier said, "You go girl!", after hearing the story, and then seeing you herself.

The hormonal floodgates straight to hell have been opened folks. Speak softly and carry a big salt-lick.

Hey boy take a look at me...let me dirty up your mind...

ouch. but you are sooo much nicer than me and my roomie heidi when that shit happens. we are usually blunt and to the point and very loud about rich bitches stepping in our way. we have even scared a few of them completely out of the aisles...lol

I think I said this before, you know, with the fan sign and all, but I love ya, Robyn. I'll help you beat her up. I know I'm short, but I can move fast. Uh, well, I'll be there at least. And dammit, I'll LOOK intimidating.

Too bad her $60 French manicure keeps her from effectively clicking a mouse to happen upon your stellar rant.

Tonight at Wally world, we were pushing two carts-one for the kids and dry goods, one for the groceries. This woman tried to bust right between us as we were going down the main aisle. I however, just said "'scuseme, 'scuseme, coming through, pardon us" and kept right on goin. She said, "no young man, it is ladies first!" with a sneer on her face and a rattle in her throat. To which I replied, pointing at Stacy, "The only one I see is my wife right there." Unfortunately, Stacy didn't hear the exchange, so was unable to join in the sarcasm-fest...

We, too, were walking the aisles of Wally World, when an annoying *ahem* lady rolled her shopping cart over my wife's foot. My wife said nothing, but limped away. Then, the *ahem* tampon-container said (out of earshot of my wife, but loud enough for me to hear), "Oh, look, now she's gonna pretend she's hurt." I came very close to slugging a woman in Wal-Mart...

Tampon container? LMFAO - haven't heard that one before! And oooooh, that comment would have probably got me arrested until I found out how much it took for that bitch to "pretend" she was hurt, too...

Good grief, is it Shithead Saturday, or what? I had some hemorrhoid call my office tonight -- five minutes before it was time to leave -- and try to bully me into giving him an insurance quote without giving me certain information we are legally required by the state of Florida to obtaiin. I came this close to telling him to taste my Chocolate Salty Balls. ;}

Let's not even get into the fact that some internet eunuch flooded my comments with porn -- and tacky porn, of ugly men with ugly private parts, as well as obscene (but worse, stupid and misspelled) commentary. Is the moon full or something?

I actually sang that entire Bette Midler song, Wing Beneath My Wings (with a little help from Google to find the lyrics and a little leeway with the melody).

I'm a big fan of bluntness, and refusal to be treated poorly. I'm also a big fan of immediate, wanton physical violence (I'm the girl who broke her best friend's nose in grade 7 over something too embarassinly minor to be mentioned), so the Mad Cow can consider herself lucky she ran into you rather than me. I've always wondered if I could deliver a roundhouse kick solid enough to rupture an implant.